Puccini: Turandot
Opera Festival of New Jersey
June 30, 2001
Puccini’s Turandot is the Opera Festival of New Jersey’s most ambitious production to date. The complete success of this daring endeavor says much for this important company, which increases in renown and respect with each passing season. The production was first-rate: imaginative sets, superb lighting and marvelous effects provided an object lesson in the art of staging and put many a better-funded organization to shame. The orchestra pit of this thousand-seat theater holds only 54 players which was, nevertheless, sufficient for Puccini’s intentions and permitted the use of voices more lyric than would be the case in a larger house. The cast was uniformly excellent.
As Timur, Allan Glassman, an artist of great accomplishment in many major houses, used his lyric tenor with the greatest finesse through a wide range of colors and dynamics; his “Nessun Dorma” received a well-deserved ovation. Although Theresa Cincione does not possess a voluptuously beautiful voice in the manner of Anna Moffo or Leontyne Price, her singing was affecting, and she created a moving portrait of Liu that produced many audible audience sniffles at her suicide scene. James Valenti, as the Emperor Altoum, deserves special mention for his uncanny ability to sing beautifully while suggesting age rather than decrepitude. The Ping, Pang and Pong of Jeff Morrissey, Jon Kolbet and John Easterlin were outstanding, both for vocal exactitude and superb acting. The Mandarin, Andrew Krikawa, displayed a firm and beautiful voice in his few lines. Kudos to the entire cast and the splendid chorus as well.
The surprise of the evening was Anna Shafajinskaia, making her American debut in the role of Turandot. Unknown, unheralded, this young Ukranian soprano commanded the stage with her first step, exhibiting a confidence and assurance that fairly nailed one’s attention. From the moment of her entrance, the opera, the stage, the evening were hers. The voice is a dramatic soprano of depth and richness, mahogany-colored with a thread of steel, even throughout its considerable range. It is a magnificent instrument, and Miss Shafajinskaia is able to color it for dramatic purposes and, when she desires, to induce a shimmering vibrato. Never did the voice squall or scream at the climaxes, despite its power. In addition to these vocal riches, Miss Shafajiskaia was stunningly beautiful onstage and possessed both a remarkable histrionic gift and a truly riveting stage presence. “She has it all,” was a remark heard throughout the evening. In every way this young singer’s performance as Turandot far exceeded what one would expect from a singer whose career has barely begun.
The audience succumbed without resistance to this astonishing debut and at the final curtain gave the soprano a standing ovation. She was clearly thrilled at her triumph.
And there is the danger. At the cast party, Anna S (as she prefers to be called) was found to be an effusive and delightful young woman, apparently still in her 20’s, who is conquering the operatic world (Covent Garden and NYCO are soon) in heavy repertoire that may prove her undoing. How many remarkable talents have we seen crash and burn? Elena Suliotis, Marilyn Mims and Susan Dunn come immediately to mind. The thought is sobering. In the euphoria of the moment, a new fan told her, “You’re going to be singing all over the world!” “I hope so,” she replied. I hope not. I hope she learns how to say “no,” emphatically and often, and to balance her current repertoire (Turandot, Aida, Tosca) with lighter and less stressful musical fare. For the moment, however, all is well; a new talent of great promise has arrived. May it prosper!
—Howard Bushnell
Offenbach: Les Contes d’Hoffmann
Syracuse Opera,
Hinds Concert Theatre
Syracuse, NY
May 4, 2001
Jacques Offenbach’s final work, Les Contes d’Hoffmann was given a new spin by the Syracuse Opera. This updated production, originally for the Opera Company of Philadelphia, had both its moments of genius (instead of rewinding Olympia’s springs, Spalanzani typed codes into an onstage computer) and of disappointment (some unflattering costumes, and an interpretation of Crespel’s bourgeois home that seemed more appropriate as the poor Bohemians’ garret in La Boheme).
Using the traditional yet corrupt Choudens edition, the cast sang with confidence and character despite the theater’s vacuum-like acoustics. Unfortunately the attractively soft-grained mezzo of Leah Creek, Hoffmann’s muse and companion Nicklausse, was ill-served by being placed too far upstage for many of her important lines, especially her “Une poupee” solo. The same misjudgment affected the similarly gentle tones of Stephanie Monsour-Nixdorf as Antonia’s mother. Among the men, Tom Anzalone was a handsome, rich-toned Hermann, Michael Connor’s Cochènille was a charming vignette, Antonia’s father Crespel was voiced in buttery tones by Gregory Sheppard, and Jimi N. James sang with menace and machismo as Schlemil.
Company stalwart Melvin Lowery etched Andrës, Spalanzani, Frantz, and Pitichinaccio with crackling wit. John Fanning as the villains, heard on the Met’s last Hoffmann broadcast, let his thunderous tones peal forth without affecting any stereotypical attitudes of evil. In the strenuous title role, Barton Green voiced his passions tirelessly throughout the performance, without resorting to forcing, ultimately ending the performance as vocally fresh as he began.
Following Offenbach’s oft-disregarded original intention, the ladies were taken by a single soprano, the brilliant Joan Eubank. A lyric soprano of extensive range (she’s due to sing the Queen of the Night later in the year) and excellent technique (with real, true trills), she stole hearts throughout the entire evening. Her jewel-like precision in the Doll Song and Olympia’s exit was astounding; her pathetic lyricism as Antonia underlined the character’s fragility (and she expired on a stunning trill); as Giulietta she was delicately feminine instead of the usual vamp, and she was commanding even in her brief appearance as Stella. Surely this cherishable artist is now on her way to a major career.
In his company debut, Steven White led a well-paced performance that not only gave the singers enough leeway to make their statements but also urged the action onward. The chorus was well-directed and well-rehearsed, blending together quite cleanly. In the pit, members of the Syracuse Symphony reveled in the score’s textural clarity, which was designed to allow every syllable to be heard without ever letting down moments of high drama.
—Doug Han
Verdi: Aida
San Diego Opera, San Diego, CA
May 8, 2001
San Diego’s final opera of the 2001 season was an eye-catching production of Giuseppe Verdi’s Aida. In the title role, Elena Zelenskaya showed a pleasantly piquant voice with clear tones on top and just the slightest suggestion of an edge, and a powerfully resonant chest voice. She sang with gracefully-arched legato phrases and, when called for, a well-produced messa di voce, creating a compelling slave-princess still regal in her lowered station.
Richard Margison was a splendidly heroic Radames. Not only did he sing an Italianate, well-enunciated “Celeste Aida” with an easily reached B flat for “vicino al sol,” he sang the rest of his role with well-focused, burnished gold tones. He seemed perfectly relaxed as he sang and, although he did most of his acting with his voice, he created a convincing military general.
Marianne Cornetti, as Amneris, has a huge trumpet-like voice with a secure technique and imperturbable concentration. Even though the staircase on which she was standing for the Judgment Scene moved unexpectedly at one point, she did not miss a beat of the music, and she created a well-defined character. She was a royal Egyptian princess in love with Radames, ready to share her throne with him and to fight desperately for his life until there is nothing left to do but curse his judges.
Haijing Fu was a dramatic Amonasro, imperious and menacing. He created a character not to be trifled with while singing evenly with a firm baritone voice that showed none of the vibrato problems that had troubled him of late.
As Ramfis, Hao Jiang Tian exhibited a strong bass-baritone voice, portraying his priestly authority with his bearing and with solid resounding tones. Dean Elzinga’s well-honed acting skills made a memorable character of the King of Egypt. Secure and dramatic in his well-enunciated utterances, his firm, resonant bass-baritone voice foretells a fine future for this young artist. Kenneth Morris sang a well-controlled, intensely dramatic messenger in clearly understandable Italian, while Kathleen Halm sang the music of the priestess with excellent diction but somewhat monochromatic tones.
Edoardo Mueller gave us the immeasurable benefit of his deep understanding of Aida as he elicited an idiomatic reading of this most compelling score from the excellent players of the San Diego Opera Orchestra. A performance this good leaves one in a daze afterwards. I hope they keep this cast around for other Verdi performances. They make a winning team.
—Maria Nockin
Britten’s The Turn of the Screw
University of Washington, Schools of Music and Drama
Meany Theater, Seattle, WA
May 13, 2001
UW’s Schools of Music and Drama jointly mounted a solid production of Britten’s intriguing The Turn of the Screw by casting the available student voices with sensitivity to their strengths. Claudia Zahn’s staging was direct and interesting, and set, costume, and lighting designs that evoked both mood and period supported the young singers and gave the production a professional credibility. Peter Eros guided the University Symphony through Britten’s tricky modern idioms.
The focal point of the score and story is The Governess, a long and demanding role with wide emotional and vocal swings. Graduate student Sarah Roberts was superb, fresh-voiced and appealing, with many vocal hues in soft pastel and bold primary color palettes. Roberts’ even lyric soprano has a dignified timbre that would be appropriate for Mozart’s Countess or Fiordiligi (a role she sang as an undergraduate) and was ideal for the noble, overzealous Governess. A compelling actress with a lovely leading-lady quality, Roberts balanced various moments of vulnerability and confidence throughout the afternoon performance.
It always bodes well when an opera begins with a strong voice, and Tracy Wise put over the narration of the short prologue with security and confidence. Antje Farmer’s sweet, pure soubrette soprano was an ideal choice for Flora. Her pitch was always accurate, even when duetting with 12-year-old Mick Newell as her brother Miles, whose dull, underdeveloped treble frequently strayed flat. Elizabeth Blake had a wild, flashing soprano and stage presence that was absolutely appropriate for the ghost of Miss Jessel. As her other-worldly lover, Quint, Scott Kendall couldn’t carry the responsibilities of being the only significant adult male voice in the opera. His narrow, unsupported tenor was only effective in the light filigree of the role’s Eastern-influenced vocalizes. Michelle T. Rice was a sympathetic Mrs. Grose, her young mezzo displayed mature patches of richness in the middle voice, and she acted with a convincing conviction of character.
— John Carroll
Haydn’s The Creation
Seattle Choral Company
May 12, 2001
To launch its 19th Season, the Seattle Choral Company offered an exquisite performance of Haydn’s great oratorio masterwork, The Creation. Conductor and director Fred Coleman found many of the work’s great moments and balanced them well: grandeur, elegance, and humanity poured forth into the warm atmosphere and acoustics of Benaroya Hall. The orchestra and chorus filled the big, profound gestures of God’s first few days of this big project called Earth, and then created beautiful intimacy for the hushed, introspective moments.
The company of five professional soloists was excellent. Monica Harris’ delicate, sweet timbre and engaging, relaxed smile naturally conveyed the grace and poise of Gabriel. Though lacking real coloratura soprano brilliance, she negotiated confidently the intricate demands of the Archangel’s two long solos with glistening top notes and subtle ornamentation. Small and light of voice, she floated on the top line of the soloists’ ensembles adding an airy, celestial quality to the musical palette.
Wesley Rogers sang Uriel with a gorgeous reed-like tenor, soft-grained and noble. An occasional low note didn’t sound, but the top of his voice, where the real glories of the music rest, was sumptuous. His style and approach were ideal for the piece vocally, but he really must loosen up on stage and try smiling once in awhile. For example, the recitative “And God created Man in His own image” wants an expressive warmth of voice and character to fully convey the miracle of life. Rogers kept his eyes and attention fixed to the score and never let drop his “this is serious classical music” demeanor. The contrast between the stiffness of Rogers and the charisma of all other soloists was telling; relating to the audience and each other over their scores, everyone but Rogers brought that delightful sense of the sheer joy of singing to their performance. The low-end of Haydn’s majestic vocal spectrum was dispatched with volume and panache by bass-baritone Clayton Brainerd. The music is conspicuously demanding, and Brainerd was up to almost all of its challenges. In Raphael’s big aria “Rolling in foaming billows” he showed a bit of reach on the very top and the bottom of the wide range, but his flexibility and power were invigorating. Brainerd is a big man with big voice and a magnetic stage presence. But he was never blustery, and blended well with his fellow angels in their several trios.
Erich Parce and Terri Richter were a charming, handsome, down-to-earth Adam and Eve that made one proud to be human. Richter has the carriage and beauty of a model, with glowing eyes and a perfect smile. Her early-music styling—little-to-no vibrato or portamento—worked surprisingly well because of the warmth of tone and character she brought out in the music. Richter’s fuller lyric soprano was a nice contrast to the headier, spinning tones of the angelic Harris.
Parce had an accessible voice and unpretentious manner. He knew his music well enough that he seemed to hold the score only as a formality, and was thus able to simply present Adam’s humanity to the audience (and Eve’s). His vocal production was as natural as his acting, as if singing this well were God’s original intention for Man and no big deal at all.
— John Carroll
Cantares for Soprano and Guitar
Anna Bartos, soprano, Gregg Nestor, guitar
Townhall Records THCD-44 (for information call 1-800-327-4212)
To anyone who would proffer the old adage “Those that can, do; those that can’t, teach,” I would offer the example of soprano Anna Bartos. She can do both, and make each seem easy. For proof that she can teach, sign up for her classes in Spanish song literature (Monday evenings from September 24 to December 10 at NYU. For information, call 1-800-998-7200.) To hear her sing, give a spin to her CD, Cantares in which she addresses a wide range of songs from Spain and South America obviously near to her heart.
Four Sixteenth Century songs open the program, followed by No se emenderá, a rarely encountered cantata by G.F. Handel. The use of guitar accompaniment tends to give all of the material a serene, timeless quality that is universal, rather than belonging to any finite period. It is also delightfully atmospheric and decidedly un-academic; this is no mere classroom exercise, but a bouquet of songs to be savored. The newest songs in the collection, works by Roberto Gerhard, Manuel Ponce and Salvador Moreno, also benefit from this treatment which emphasizes the cultural continuity of this great and often neglected body of literature.
Bartos has a pure voice of sunny sweetness, particularly effective at conveying innocence and joy. She is wonderfully convincing, projecting her texts without seeming to pass judgement on them. Without commenting on the words, she simply delivers them to the listener in a pure state, involved, but also impartial. Do not get the idea that she is overly passive, however. The complex passions of Gerhard’s “La auséncia” are effectively and movingly handled. The melissmas of Ponce’s “Tres Morillas” are passionate and thrillingly authentic. I was initially dismayed at her lack of chest voice in Ponce’s “Estrellita,” the most famous song in the collection. I felt that the lowest notes in this fiendishly rangy melody could have benefited from a touch of chest for emphasis as this killer tune wanders back and forth from the singer’s highest to her lowest tones, and back up again. But just as I assumed she had no chest voice to give, there it was, pungent and firm in the last group, Salvador Moreno’s fascinating Cuatro canciones aztecas. So Miss Bartos knows exactly what she is doing, what effects she desires to achieve. She can please you with her artistry and she can show you how to do it, too. Attention should be paid.
—Freeman Günter
